Neptune Pays a Visit

0800 Position 1-31S 134-37W. Days run 189 miles.

All day long yesterday we enjoyed perfect reaching conditions in flat water. Eight knots of breeze on the beam, eight knots of boat speed, clear skies with puffy cumulus trade wind clouds.

We had just finished a chili and rice dinner at 630PM when a commotion on the bow got everybody's attention. "Avast, you scurvinous dogs!", we heard in a deep voice. "Who dares disturb my cocktail hour?"

We looked up to see the Denizen of the Deep, King Neptune himself, come climbing over the bow pulpit, trident in hand. He was a striking sight in the setting sun with the fading light reflecting off of his crown and his cape blowing in the breeze. "I smell pollywogs!", the Sea King bellowed.

Rob, Bill, and I had seen this movie before, and we were unfazed. Longy and Mike, on the other hand, had never been across the equator, and both recoiled in fear to the after part of Van Diemen's poop deck. "Bring me these blasphemers!", the Lord of the Lampreys commanded.

"It's those two in the stern you want," responded Rob, eager to get the Commander of the Crabs aft to where the deck hose was located. Neptune was getting seaweed and slime all over Van Diemen's new paint job and our skipper wasn't happy about it.

The Master of the Maritime moved aft, cornering Longy and Mike near the transom. "I know Van Diemen and the shellbacks aboard her well," his majesty stated. "But tell me who you are and why I should allow you into my realm?"

"What's a shellback?" asked Mike timidly.

It was the wrong thing to say, equivalent to responding "President of what?" after being introduced to the leader of the free world. The Wizard of the Waves was clearly pissed. "Master at Arms, administer punishment," he roared.

A large creature, eerily similar in appearance to Sponge Bob, Square Pants, who we hadn't noticed before, stepped forward and flung large gobs of slop onto Mike and Longy. The slop appeared to be a mixture of oatmeal, tomato paste, raisins and water that had been left to stew for a few hours, but I wouldn't know anything about that.

Watching Longy and Mike get slimed improved his majesty's mood significantly. He queried them both about their qualifications to become shellbacks and appeared satisfied by their answers. After some consideration, and clearly anxious to return to his martini, he announced, "I hereby decree that Mike and Longy are Shellbacks and entitled to all of the benefits of shellbackdom. Let them be welcomed in all my seas!"

With that, Neptune and his entourage slipped back over the side and disappeared, leaving behind what looked like the results of a cafeteria food fight. As Mike was cleaning up the mess he was heard muttering, "That was interesting. What's a polywog?"

By this time the sun had set, it had become dark, and the flashing light of the equator mail buoy appeared on the bow. We stopped and checked for mail but the buoy was empty. It appears that the old days of snail mail are behind us. Everybody is using electronic communications now and I fear that the mail buoy system, which has been in use since the 1800s when New England whaling ships plied these waters, will be discontinued soon.

We hoisted sail and got underway, this time in Van Diemen's home waters of the southern hemisphere.

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